


Twists and Turns

by RahDamon



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, M/M, Model AU, Valentine's exchange, fake-dating maybe becoming real dating, fan crush becoming real crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 09:56:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13702116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RahDamon/pseuds/RahDamon
Summary: From believing he bombed a casting to getting the spot should be pretty amazing, right? Too bad that Lance only got the spot because he discovered Red’s secret. And too bad that his fan crush on Red became a real crush on Keith, the person behind Red.





	Twists and Turns

“Thank you for your time. You may wait with the rest outside. Next one, please!”

 

The disinterested, overly polite smile fell from the woman’s lips as she turned away from Lance. Nevertheless, Lance kept his own smile firmly in place as he stepped back into the hallways and past all the other hopeful applicants. He also ignored those who had applied before him and were now whispering among themselves throwing him dirty looks.

 

 

After turning around several corners and finding himself in an empty corridor, though, he allowed his smile to fall with a shudder and slumped against the wall.

  
  


That … hadn’t gone as well as he had hoped it would. Lance had started out strong and natural. He had smiled beautifully when told to smile, frowned authentically when told to frown, bitten his upper lip with trembling shoulder when told to be sad. So, in fact, he had been the perfect model.

  
  


But then the questions had started. What choice would Lance make if he had to give up one thing - model work or school? Why did he want to become Red’s partner? Did he respect it when girls told him “No”? (That one had been easy, of course he did.) Would he give Red privacy when she asked for it? Why did he want to become a model, anyway? Would he sacrifice all his free time to keep fit, go to castings, model and, basically, sell his soul?

  
  


On and on the questions had rained down on him. While Lance had never stopped smiling, he had become visibly flustered as time went on.

  
  


“Well,” Lance sighed, straightening up and pushing himself off the wall. “I probably bombed it. There’ll be other castings. Would have been so cool to work with Red, though. Urghh, where am I, anyway?”

  
  


In his attempt not to look like he was running away, Lance hadn’t paid any attention to where he had been actually going. Both sides of the corridor were empty - of course, they were, that’s why he had stopped here - and Lance had already forgotten from which corner he had come from.

  
  


A dreadful feeling overcame Lance - the feeling of honest-to-God fear.

  
  


When he had been a little boy, just having moved to the States from Cuba, he used to have night terrors. They had been about being locked into an empty building and being forgotten. He’d walk and walk through endless corridors, shivering as the freezing cold, which blasted through everything, ended up as his only companion. And Lance would wander, forever lost, until he died.

  
  


Or rather woke up screaming. His current situation reminded him of that old dream a bit too much, the cold rattling through his bones as he shivered.

  
  


So when a door slammed relatively near to him, Lance was half-relieved, half-worried. On one hand, a person could have made that sound, a person he could ask to help him back to the waiting room. On the other hand, the wind could have caused a door to shut close and his situation would be about 1000 times creepier. Basically, he had a 50/50 chance of getting help or frightening himself even more.

  
  


He’d take those odds. Lance headed towards the sound, turning right at the next corner. And the chance that he might be able to ask someone for the way increased - he was starting to make out a voice, talking.

  
  


The closer Lance got to the voice, the more familiar it appeared to him. His nose crinkled. The voice sounded familiar in sound and pitch but he swore he had never heard it in quite such a biting tone.

  
  


“… and beside, I need a partner, why?! I’m fine on my own, being solo. People like me, don’t they?! So why the fuck is there a need for someone else by my side?”

  
  


A pause and Lance sped up. He had realized who the voice belonged to.

  
  


Red. But Lance had never heard her speak like this. Yes, she was blunt and downright sarcastic at time, that was true. Yet, he had never heard her this … bitchy. Or her voice being that low.

  
  


“Increased popularity by using a couple’s appeal?! Are you fucking with me?”

  
  


Wow, Lance hadn’t known Red was this potty-mouthed.

  
  


“People like couples because of drama. Guess what the brands don’t like? Drama. Also, no matter what precautions we, and I mean you with that, take, I hardly think we could keep it a secret from my supposed partner that -”

  
  


Lance turned another corner and found himself face to face with Red.

  
  


“- I’m a man - FUCK!”

  
  


Red’s eyes rapidly filled with fury as she, no,  _he_  realized that Lance had heard and  _understood_. But before he could speak a word, Lance squeaked out a quick “Sorry”, turned on his heels and ran. Lance ignored the choked “Wait” behind him and pushed himself to run faster.

  
  


Yet - there were loud footsteps behind Lance, rushing after him. Lance risked a glance backward and almost screeched. Sprinting and looking more lion than any human had the right to be, was Red. The worst thing was that  _he was catching up to Lance_.

  
  


Cursing internally, Lance ran even faster, thighs and calves burning as he flew over the floor. He skittered around a corner, hand catching the wall to use the momentum to his advantage, before he moaned in despair.

  
  


Lance had backed himself into a dead-end, both in a literal meaning and in a ‘Mirai Nikki’- kind of way.

  
  


“Damn, you’re fast,” someone panted behind him.

  
  


Lance closed his eyes, a prayer on his lips, before he turned around with a bright smile. “I’m lost. Could you help me find the exit by any chance?”

  
  


“Cut the crap and look me into the eyes.”

  
  


_What a potty mouth_ , Lance thought. It would have been too good to be true if his ruse had worked.

  
  


“Look, man,” Lance tried again and opened his eyes - oh no. Even with a scowl on his face, back straight, and crossed arms, Red still looked lovely. “I won’t tell anyone, okay?”

  
  


Red snorted shaking his head. “Am I supposed to believe you? Let you walk out of the building, just so you can twitter all your little friends that, surprise, Red’s a dude.”

  
  


Then Red’s eyes flickered down to the badge still sticking to Lance’s chest - the badge which each and every one of the models applying to be Red’s partner received.

  
  


“Or maybe you’ll let the cat out of the bag in a bitter temper tantrum when you don’t win that stupid cas-” Red fell silent, a contemplating note to his facial features before he smirked.

  
  


No matter how hot that smirk was, it still scared Lance to death. Because that smirk wouldn’t have been out of place on the devil’s face. Red lifted his phone to his ear, never taking his eyes off of Lance.

  
  


“Thace? Tell the organizers of the casting that they can send everyone home. I got a partner. Right here. Applicant 287.”

  
  


Lance’s jaw dropped to the floor. That was his number, the one he had privately laughed at because it spelled out his birthday.

  
  


“I don’t fucking care. You told me to choose someone I liked since I have the final say. Get it done.” Ending his call, Red prowled towards Lance, the image of a lion stalking his prey just getting stronger. He stepped close enough to Lance’s face that Lance could feel Red’s breath tantalizing on his lips.

  
  


“Listen here. Know that I got you this job. So, you’ll keep your mouth shut, act as my damn partner for a month or two or six, until people get bored of you and me. You’ll walk away from me and my job and never, I repeat never, reveal my secret, got it?”

  
  


The only thing Lance got was that Red’s eyes were a dark violet-grey and not a dark blue like he had always thought they were. They gained a smudge of a brighter violet when Red glared, though, as he was doing now.  _Who knew?_

  
  


“I’ve said, do you understand, idiot?”

  
  


“Y-yes.”

  
  


Red nodded once before stepping back and then dragging him through the building, not even noticing it when Lance tried to wriggle free.  Unceremoniously, Red threw Lance to the feet of a well-dressed man who just groaned and put his face into his hands.

  
  


That man turned to be out Red’s manager. And as Lance was now Red’s partner also Lance’s manager.

  
  


And that is how Lance began his modeling career.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Being Keith’s aka Red’s partner wasn’t that bad actually. Sure, Keith, or Red in the public, or Akira among other models ignorant of his true gender, stood in the spotlight but the public received Lance or Blue, so that he matched Keith’s stage name, well. They loved him and his easy smiles and his chattering whenever they managed to catch him.

  
  


Mostly because Lance always toed the line of breaking his contract by revealing too much information about Red and Blue’s gigs. He was also being a giant tease about how he revealed that information, which would drive the masses wild as well as increase sales. That was the reason Thace loved him. That and the fact that Lance possessed more social tact than an iguana.

  
  


After six months people still weren’t bored of RB as they called Keith and Lance. Keith had mellowed out a lot, too, and to Lance’s surprise, there were times and moments when Keith seemed like a completely different person.

  
  


Like that one time, two months after they got ‘together’. They had been bunking in the same hotel room and Lance had been fidgety. It had been his first time in a fancy hotel and, dear god, why would you put gold taps into a bathroom? Just why, Lance couldn’t understand it.

  
  


To distract himself he had asked Keith if they could go out. Keith had just snorted and mumbled something about if he wanted to get mobbed, sure, go out, get mobbed. Lance had stared back none too enthused. Out of some reason Lance still didn’t know, he had asked Keith to play 'Never have I ever’ with him.

  
  


“Never have I ever? What’s that?” had been the answer.

  
  


Lance had gaped at Keith before calling room service for gummy bears and juice.

  
  


“Usually you play with alcohol but I doubt you want a story like 'Red and Blue party it up! A bun in the oven?’ to get around, so we’ll play it with fingers, gummy bears and juice shots,” Lance’s explanation had started and then rolled out to get more and more convoluted. By the end it had only resembled Never have I ever by the fact that you started out with saying something you’ve never done.

  
  


That game had broken the ice - or cooled the fire - between them.

  
  


Lance had learned that Keith had lost his parents when he was very young, that he had a brother, that he was lactose-intolerant, that he adored sunrise but wouldn’t say no to a good sunset, and so much more.

  
  


In turn, Lance had revealed how it felt to be the youngest of 7 children. He had told Keith that his favorite animals were sharks and lions and that he was terrified of reptiles and bats. He had also confessed that he was bisexual and when he realized it. (It was a funny story actually, but too humiliating to remember in normal day hours and not within the context of a game.) And so much more.

  
  


Keith had giggled by the end of the night, a constant stream of adorable soft sounds on red cheeks. He had initiated contact, slapping Lance on the shoulder whenever one of the stories told proved too humorous and sent him into a fit of laughter.

  
  


Seeing that Keith had enjoyed himself, had made Lance proud, just like when his older siblings praised him with sincere words or his friends told him that he had given them good advice.

  
  


Another particular shocking experience was the first time Lance had seen Keith drunk off his ass.

  
  


It had happened just last month. Lance and Keith had gone onto one of their scheduled 'dates’ - something Thace had ordered them to do to keep up the charade of the two of them dating.  Which basically meant that they agreed to go somewhere once a month and then argued the whole time.

  
  


Curiously enough, people didn’t see them arguing but bantering and lovingly teasing each other. (It was rather amusing how fans interpreted interactions the way they wanted to and Lance had never before thought about that. He had never before thought about people seeing him do one thing and thinking they know what he’s thinking and feeling when they didn’t. It was weird.)

  
  


Anyway, Keith had been the one to decide the date and had chosen to go clubbing.

  
  


“You know how to have fun?” had Lance’s response been. However, his tone had been teasing and not biting like it would have been in their first three months. So Keith had just rolled his eyes, ticked his eyebrows and rolled his hips.

  
  


“Of course, I do. Do you?” And damn, if that challenging grin hadn’t been attractive. And damn, if Lance would ever back down from a challenge given.

  
  


The club they had gone to was more high-class, read expensive, than Lance was used to but that hadn’t bothered him all too much. Which might have been because Lance had been still riding the high of entering the club with his hand secured on Keith’s hip and their bodies pressed together from hip to shoulders.

  
  


Due to the noise of their surroundings, they had communicated with eye contact and body language all evening. The intimacy of this had gifted Lance with more buzzing pleasure than the 4 or so cocktails that had found their way into his stomach. Unfortunately, he hadn’t noticed that Keith had washed down a lot more than 4 glasses.

  
  


By the end of the night, Keith had hung off Lance’s shoulders, nuzzling and giggling into Lance’s collarbones. Keith had also laughed about how red Lance’s cheeks were because Keith was so affectionate.

  
  


After Lance had spluttered out protests - “It’s the alcohol, tell ya, it’s the alcohol!” - Keith had kissed up his throat and to his lips, lingering over the corner of Lance’s mouth. Lance had been wide-eyed and crimson in the face.

  
  


“Only alcohol, heh?” Keith had whispered before frenching him.

  
  


Just as Lance had wanted to respond, Keith had passed out. With disbelieving eyes he had stared at the partner in his eyes before groaning and getting Keith home.

  
  


The next day the ass had acted like nothing happened. Thace had later explained that usually Keith wasn’t allowed more than one glass of alcohol cause he was a lightweight and never remembered anything after the 3rd drink.

  
  


So Lance had learned two things that evening. One, Keith was the worst kind of drunk - a horny, ballsy mess that wouldn’t remember anything he did once he was sober again - and two, Lance couldn’t deny that he had fallen for him. Like, really in love, and not just the (fan) crush he had been previously aware of.

  
  


This was Lance’s life now. In love with a fake 'girl'friend that would drop him as soon as he could. Sighing his forehead met the table.

  
  


“Is model life that stressful?” Hunk asked while he was stirring the stew pot on the oven.

  
  


“Nah, he was probably lamenting the fact that he still didn’t get into his girlfriend’s pants or how they started dating. The dope-eyed look in his eyes says it all,” Pidge responded from where they were sitting, legs crossed and fiddling with some kind of technology.

  
  


“Hunk’s my only friend. And it’s doe-eyed.”

  
  


Pidge snorted. “I know very well what leaves my mouth, thank you. My point remains.”

  
  


“So what if I’m thinking bout my girlfriend. Hunk’s always talking bout Shay.”

  
  


Both Pidge and Hunk shook their head. Hunk scratched his chin before opening his mouth. But nothing came out except hot air.

  
  


“Spit it out.” Lance winced and regretted his tone. Hunk was his sweetest and oldest friend. Just because he was annoyed with Pidge and his current situation of unrequited loved that he had to pretend was requited. Cheese, that was a twisted sentence.

  
  


Taking a deep breath, Hunk casually said, like he was talking about the weather. “We know you’re not together with her.”

  
  


Lance’s head snapped up and he laughed, his nose twitching. “What are you saying? Me and Red are tight and nowhere near breaking up. You’re gonna start teasing me now too?”

  
  


His cheek throbbed when something hit his face and belatedly he yelled.  Disbelieving, he stared down at the device, cables still exposed, and turned to look at Pidge who still had their arm outstretched and hand empty.

  
  


“What the -”

  
  


“Ok, first off, I’m insulted you think we don’t know you well enough to figure when you’re faking. Second, my brother is a friend of Red’s brother. Do you know how often I get second-hand gossip about Red and his state of singleness? And how he bemoans that?”

  
  


“He?” Hunk blinked while Lance gaped.

  
  


“Hmmhmm, Red’s a dude.”

  
  


“Really? Huh,” Hunk said. It didn’t seem to bother him but it certainly sent Lance’s head spinning. Instead of asking how they had never told him of their connection to Keith, Lance only spat out incoherent sentence pieces and words.

  
  


Pidge laughed at Lance’s speechless state before they stood up, cracking their bones and stretching. With a few steps they reached Lance, patted his head like he was a dog, turned to Hunk and latched onto Hunk’s arm.

  
  


“Time to turn off the oven.”

  
  


“But the stew-”

  
  


“Screw the stew, I have a trap to spring.” They turned off the oven themselves and dragged Hunk with them up the stairs but not before yelling at Lance. “I would open the door!”

  
  


“Open the door?” Lance repeated to the now empty kitchen. His brain was still trying to catch up with the whole 'Pidge knew Keith, or about Keith, the whole time and had never bothered to tell Lance’-thing. But why should he open the door-?

  
  


The bell rang, loud and shrill and entirely the roar of  _Jurassic World_ ’s Indominus Rex. Pidge had thought they were clever when they installed that, shrugging their shoulders and grinning. “When the roar of a psychotic dinosaur doesn’t get our attention, I don’t know what would.”

  
  


Lance stumbled to the door and opened it. The last thing he had expected to see was Keith standing there fidgeting and playing with the hem of a leather jacket, a leather jacket that highlighted the inkyness of his hair and the paradoxical brightness of his dark eyes.

  
  


“Keith? Whatcha doing here?”

  
  


Keith’s eyes flickered up before a tongue peaked out and licked his lips. “I … are you doing something tomorrow?”

  
  


“Tomorrow?” Lance echoed - he was starting to feel like one of these broken recorders, first with Pidge, now with Keith - and tilted his head. Had he forgotten an assignment or casting?

  
  


“Yeah, tomorrow.”

  
  


“As far as I know, no …?”

  
  


“Good.” Keith’s eyes brightened and smiled.

  
  


Sucking in a harsh breath, Lance wondered how much more he could take. Keith with an honest smile and doe-eyes was lethal, to his heart and his groin.

  
  


“Be ready to go on a date by 6. I’ll pick you up.”

  
  


Before Lance could control his mouth it slipped out. “It’s already time for one of our play dates?”

  
  


“No.” Keith’s lips curled into a smile with teeth. “It’s a date.” With that, Keith darted forward, grabbed Lance by the collar and dragged him down. And then - then Keith kissed Lance; firm, slightly chapped lips moving against smooth ones with pleasant pressure.

  
  


When Keith let him go, he was smirking and tracing his own lips with his tongue. “I’m looking forward to tomorrow.” With a last lick of his lips, Keith turned around and walked away, hips swinging and Lance’s heart galloping.

  
  


What had just happened?

  
  


“I accept chocolate and your soul as thank you.”

  
  


Lance shrieked and bumped against the door when Pidge spoke from next to him.

  
  


“Thank you?” Lance said turning to them. (Someone should check him for batteries, he felt like a recorder.)

  
  


“Yeah. For encouraging Keith to act on his feelings in the most cliché way ever.”

  
  


“Huh?”

  
  


Pidge groaned and rolled their eyes. “Tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day. He asked you out. You’re going on a real date.  _You’re welcome_.”

  
  


That’s when Lance realized that, maybe, by the time tomorrow ended, he would have a boyfriend. And he would have to spend his next paycheck on a ton of Swiss chocolate.


End file.
